


Harry Potter and His Very First Year at Hogwarts

by MorningBlueRose



Series: Harry Potter Grows Up and Discovers What it Means to be a "Good Man" [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All the lore is from memory cause I did zero research, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, HOORAY, Harry Potter gets to have a Good Life, M/M, Now a series, also some characters might be OOC on account of the fact NO WAR, just chalk it up to being an AU, so sorry for any major discrepancies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10068797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorningBlueRose/pseuds/MorningBlueRose
Summary: "You're better off not hanging around his sort. I can help you make the right kind of friends."Harry paused, taking in the situation. Around him were a dozen unfamiliar faces, all staring in curiosity at the event unfolding before them. On his left, was his new friend Ron, nearly shaking in anger. He looked about to hit someone. In front of him stood the boy his friend was prepared to hit. Looking closely, he noticed that despite the sneer, it was all in all, a rather pretty face. All at once, his father's words came to mind."You know," Harry tried his best to smile the way his father did at his mother, "Something as lovely as you has no business looking so upset."If Harry thought his mum's face could turn pink, he was unprepared for the flush that crept up Malfoy's neck to his cheek.No one, for quite some time, said a word."Lovely?" whispered Malfoy, either unable or unwilling to look anyone in the eye.-The year is 1991, and 11 year old Harry Potter is starting his very first year at Hogwarts. Join him as he makes friends, starts rivalries, flirts with danger, invites danger by flirting with rivals and learns what it means to be a best friend. No Voldemort AU





	1. Harry's First Train Ride Alone

Harry had only been measured once before, for his godfather’s wedding. It had been tedious enough; the needles pinched and Madame kept asking him over and over, “So when’s your turn, eh darling?” It was a stupid question; Harry was only 11. Adults liked to ask stupid questions like that sometimes, and it was fun to make them laugh. When the time came to finally, _finally_ try on his first school robes, Harry decided yet again to play along, and tried to think of something his father would say. It usually worked for the better. People called his dad a “charmer.” His mum, who accompanied him to purchase the robes, apparently thought otherwise.

“-And that’s another thing; I don’t want to hear you call women _birds_ Harry; it’s bad manners. I don’t care what your father says; it’s not affectionate, it’s rude.”

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and tried to look admonished. “Dad calls you pigeon all the time, and all you do is smile and your face goes all pink.”

Her face was turning pink now, and the M wrinkle was coming back on her forehead. Switching the bags to her other hand, she sighed. “Yes, well; your father and I-”

“-are madly, _madly_ in love, sport; so, unless you’re planning on making moves on Malkin, I suggest you keep the love names to yourself, young man.” His father reached for the bags that his mum was struggling to hold over her shoulder. “I’ll take that, love; never you mind.”

The Chocolate Frog wriggled a bit in his mouth, and in the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the wriggling of a mysterious package beneath a black sheet, currently in his father’s other hand. Harry stared at it, and bit the frog decisively. It melted in his mouth, and his taste buds were satisfied. His curiosity, however, was not. The sheet wriggled a bit more.

“Dad? Dad, wassat in your hands?”

“This? This is a wand, dear child. You should know what it is, you just got one in the shops a few minutes ago.” He turned to mock whisper to his wife, who looked only slightly more amused than Harry, which was not much. “Oi, got that letter not a moment too soon, eh? Our boy might be missing some tools in the shed-”

Harry glared. “You’re the one missing tools, you daft old man!”

“Harry, don’t disrespect your father.”

“Oh ho, you’re in for it now, little squirt-“

“-and James.” said his mother disapprovingly. “Don’t tease the poor boy.”

“Was only a joke, pigeon.” His dad leaned in to kiss his mother on the cheek, which went pink again. A smile escaped from her lips, and Harry deliberately looked away. “He’ll see soon enough.”

“See?” Harry protested, pointing an accusatory finger at his father. “He does too say it! And there you go again, smiling-”

Lily sighed. “You’re right dear. You’re absolutely right.” Turning to James, who was making a terrible attempt at looking innocent, she tried to look stern. “Do you know what your son is doing? He called Madame Malkin a bird-“

“She isn’t?” James gasped. “With those knock-“

“- _and_ it’s your fault.” Lily continued, glaring. “He’s at that age now, he’s bound to pick up something terrible from your behavior and then it will be all your fault and where will that leave you, hmm?

“Divorced, probably. Ow, ow! Alright, alright!” He rubbed his shoulder. “Take it easy, woman; I only got two!”

“You’ll only have one soon; keep it up! Look, see there’s the bookstore and we’ve only got an hour before the train comes. Teach your son some manners,” she called over her shoulder as she tried to break through the crowd to enter, “And learn some yourself while you’re at it!”

Lily disappeared into the marketplace, and then there was only father and son plus wiggly black package. Harry shoved the wrapper into his pocket and inwardly groaned. He felt another lecture coming on.

James stared after his wife for a few seconds, and smiled fondly. He looked down at his eleven-year-old son, sulking pitifully at the mysterious package, and his smile grew fonder. “Right then. What’s this I hear about you seducing seamstresses while I’m away? You’ve got quite a libido for a sprout, haven’t you?” He ruffled Harry’s hair playfully while the young boy scowled. “Should we lock you up in a cupboard, until it’s safe for the womenfolk?”

“Ought to lock you up, old man. You’re worse than anybody!”

“Oi, I’m parting worldly knowledge on your person, kiddo. This is the good stuff, can’t get this kind of education in that fancy school you’re off to.”

That got a smile out of him. “Is it really fancy? Is it nice there?”

James sat down on a nearby bench and laid back. He looked wistful. “It was lovely, way I remember it. Train ride is boring as all get out, but it’s like a castle, just like in picture books. Towers so high, you can barely see the top when you’re walking in. That’s where Gryffindor is. All the way up, in the highest tower. You can see forever from up there.”

Harry tried to imagine such a place. “Wow.”

“Wow is right. You’ll meet all sorts of people there. You remember Mr. Weasley’s son?”

Harry vaguely remembered red hair and an impressive collection of wizard trading cards. On the last trip that Harry made to his father’s workplace, they had been introduced. They spent most of the time talking about Hogwarts and complaining about their parents. He seemed like a good friend to have. “You mean Ron?” asked Harry, suddenly excited. “Is he starting this year too?”

“That’s right. You’re bound to meet him on the train.” This time, James leered. “Girls, too.”

Harry scowled. “I don’t like girls. They’re bossy.”

His father laughed. “Oh, you’ll like them soon enough. Give it time.”

“No, I won’t either. I don’t know how to talk to them anyway. They’re confusing and they yell and they never want to play swords or nothing. I don’t like girls.” He repeated.

“Not even Mum?”

He shuffled in his seat. “Mum’s different.”

“Ay.” agreed James, “She is. Anyway, it’s not that hard to talk to girls. You just have to approach it the right way. Remember the Rochester’s dog? Their big mutt, Sandy?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “She was scary at first.”

“But when we came at her the right way, softly and slowly, didn’t she seem much nicer? Girls are the same way, especially the pretty ones. You see a pretty one Harry; don’t just walk up to her. You’ve got to be slow and you’ve got to be soft. Treat her nicely, Harry; and she play a lot more than swords with you, I’ll tell you that much.”

Harry gave his father a scolding look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but this sounds like one of those things Mum is going to hit you for when I tell her.”

“Oi!” James ruffled his son’s hair in protest, and Harry tried in vain to bat his hand away. He didn’t care about his hair, but his mum would fuss and fix it with spit and he _hated_ when she did that.

“This is man talk; don’t go bringing your mum into this.” He rubbed his shoulder. “She hits like a hippogriff, that one. Ow!”

His mum had re-appeared, and with her were the remaining textbooks required for the year. One of them had been chucked at his father’s head. He hoped it hadn’t been dented.

“Mum, dad’s giving me weird advice about girls again.”

She glared at James, who while rubbing his head, had the decency to look slightly abashed. “Oh, really? And what nonsense, pray tell, have you been driving into our only child’s head?”

“I was just telling him some aviary secrets, dear.” He rose from his seat to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Not everyone catches a dove on their first try, you know?”

“Oh? I thought I was a pigeon.”

“Pigeon, dove, sparrow.” Still holding her face, he brushed some hair from her eyes with his thumb and smiled fondly. “Long as your mine, whatever you like.”

“I suppose you think those lines still work on me, Potter.”

“You’re smiling, aren’t you?

“I’m trying very hard not to.”

A train whistle interrupted their tête-à-tête. Thank goodness. Harry was starting to feel queasy.

“Oh, the train!” His mum frantically grabbed at their purchases while his father tried to part through the now rushing traffic. “We’re bound to miss it now, and all for your mischief, James Potter!”

They didn’t miss the train. It turned out to only be the noon warning whistle, with fifteen minutes until departure. His mum, to his despair, fixed his hair with spit. His father gave him a gift. It was the wriggling package.

“Go on, then.” He gestured, when Harry hesitated. “Open it up, see what it is.”

He did. Upon removing the veil, he gasped.

Inside a tarnished iron cage was the whitest, prettiest owl he’d ever seen. Its feathers reflected so brightly off the cage she looked almost otherworldly. Its eyes were very black. They watched Harry carefully.

“It’s a snowy owl.” said his father, smiling at the awe on the young boy’s face. “They caught her in the mountains- she’s a girl, by the way. Haven’t named her yet. What do you think?’

“She’s beautiful.” Harry whispered, and as if she understood, the owl cooed and began preening. “Can I really have her? Really?”

“She’s for sending letters.” said his mother. Her voice sounded unusually thick, and trembled slightly. “So no excuses, all right? I want at least one every week, young man.”

Harry could feel his eyes watering. There, at the platform, it suddenly became very clear that the moment he had been waiting for nearly the entire summer had arrived. For the first time since the letter, he didn’t want to go. “Dad-”

His father coughed. “None of that now. C’mon. Let’s leave brave and proud, like men. You too, Lily. Come now.” He brushed away something on his mother’s cheek. “Something as lovely as you has no business looking so upset. Cheer up, love.”

There were children pushing by him now, and the air was filled with the goodbyes of a hundred unfamiliar families. It was time to go. James carried his things to the compartment while Harry hugged and kissed his mother goodbye, and then he shook his father’s hand and boarded the train with his new owl, and as the train began to move, waved goodbye to his family.

He only cried for a little bit, and was proud of himself.


	2. Harry's First Night

The train ride was exactly as boring as his father had said.

For one thing, he had a compartment all to himself. It hadn’t started that way. There had been at least 6 other students, but eventually they all wandered off and found childhood friends to sit with. Even from his seat near the back, he could hear hollering and shouting from the next compartment. It sounded like great fun. For the millionth time, Harry wished he wasn’t so shy. Instead, he stared off into the window.

“Hey! Watch out!”

He turned towards the voice, and then a blinding pain shot up through his forehead. Everything went black.

 

 

“-now you’ve done it Crabbe; you’re really in for it this time-”

“What? It’s not my fault; you told me to keep it away from Weasley!”

“Yeah, I said keep it away _from Weasley_ , Crabbe; not clock someone in the head with it!”

“Both of you, shut up; I think he’s waking up!”

He was. As Harry came to, his head began throbbing like mad, and the shouting wasn’t helping. He groaned in pain. As his vision came back, a blurry face came into view.

“Oi, mate! You awright?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He tried to sit up. “What happened?”

The blurry face glared at the two behind him. “Ask these two knuckleheads. They were messing with my luggage and butterfingers over here clocked you in the noggin.”

“It was right violent.” added an unknown voice helpfully. “You started bleedin and eferythin.”

“It were an accident! Really!” said a rather large shadow. “C’mon, don’t tell!”

Harry was getting rather tired of unfamiliar shapes. “Has anyone seen my glasses?”

“Here,” someone offered, a girl this time. “What’s left of them, anyway.”

He felt his stomach drop. “Oh no. They’re broken?” He took them from the girl’s hands, and felt around. Indeed, they had been smashed in two. He groaned. He hadn’t even made it to the castle and already he’d broken something important.

“They snapped in two. But I bet Hermione can fix it! She’s right good with a wand. I’ll go get her!” and the girl flounced off.

“No, Lavender; don’t bring her here-” But it was too late. The girl had taken off.

While the compartment door closed, Harry felt something begin to drip down from his forehead again.

“Uh oh,” said blurry face #1. “It’s bleeding again. Hold on-”

“Ha, Ron! It looks almost as red as your hair!”

Even blurry as his vision was, Harry could tell the face began to turn red. “Shut it, Finnegan.”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Ron? Ron Weasley?”

The hand wiping his forehead paused. “That’s me. Do I know you?”

“I’m Harry, Harry Potter? We met this summer at the Ministry?” There was a pause as Ron seemed to be jogging his memory. “Remember, we ate all those Chocolate Frogs and got sick in the toilets and you traded my Yzehdir for-“

“-Gregora the Enchantress, I remember you!” A laugh. “You look different, without all that vomit on your shirt. Plus all the blood on your forehead.”

“Still probably look better than you, _with_ the vomit.”

That got a roar from the crowd. “Oi, who’s this Ron? I like him better than you already!”

The compartment door opened then, and most everyone shot up away before they realized it was only the girl who’d left. She appeared to have brought someone back with her.

“Oh no,” muttered Ron, “It’s that girl again.”

“And what’s this? There are only supposed to be 6 students per compartment; why are you all crowded around- _Good Heavens_ , what happened to him?” The unfamiliar girl kneeled next to him, and took his face in her hands. All he could see was brown hair.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” She shook his shoulders quite fiercely and raised her voice quite loudly. “ **Can-you-hear-me-**?”

“He got hit in the head with some luggage, Granger; he didn’t go deaf!”

She sniffed. “I’ll have you know temporary inability to hear is one of the symptoms of blunt force trauma. He could have a concussion; he’s only a child-”

“Oi. We’re all children, you ninny. We only brought you here to fix the glasses.” The voice belonging to Finnegan sounded begrudging. “Can you fix em or not?”

Hesitating, she took the broken glasses from Harry’s hand. “Well. We’re not supposed to use magic before classes…”

“C’mon girl; the poor man can’t even see! No one here’s gonna talk; are you fellas?”

There was a murmur of agreement among the group, and even without his glasses, Harry could tell Finnegan was the leader of the gang.

Scowling, the girl took her wand out and made some sort of complicated gesture. “All right, but you didn’t hear this from me. _Reparo!”_

Harry didn’t see what was going on, but he heard the familiar sound of an object being fixed magically. Without examining them properly, he knew they were fixed the way his mum would have fixed them. Whoever this Hermione girl was, she must have grown up a proper witch, if she could already cast spells. Harry just received his wand, and he still wasn’t comfortable even holding it for too long. Receiving his lenses back, he thanked her in gratitude.

The world refractured itself back into reality.

It was, indeed, Ron Weasley by his side. Harry would have recognized those freckles anywhere. There was another redheaded boy above him and to the right, and it seemed like they’d laid him down in the seat he’d been occupying. A girl with thick brown braids stared at him curiously, while the girl who had fixed his glasses was wrapping white gauze around his head. She clipped it primly; and brushed his fringe over it.

“There.” She pronounced, fixing his hair. “That should staunch the bleeding until the nurse gets a look at you. You might want to let the headmaster know you were bullied on the train-”

“Oi! He wasn’t bullied; that was Ron!”

Ron’s face flushed. “I wasn’t being bullied!”

“Oh, what would you call it then?”

“Harassment!”

“Right,” said Finnegan, clearly playing along. “Ron was the one being _harassed_ ; not him. Besides, it managed to chase off Crabbe and Goyle, didn’t it?”

True to his word, the largest of the students were no longer in the compartment. It was only Finnegan and his crew.

“Besides,” he continued, “If Potter here rats them out, we all go under whether we got involved or not, and I ain’t too keen on spending my first week scrubbing warts off frogs, we clear?”

“Harry wouldn’t tell.” said Ron confidently. “He’s alright. He’s not that sort.”

Harry felt a rush of affection for his new friend. They’d barely known each other a day, and Ron was already willing to vouch for his character. Well, he wasn’t going to disappoint his classmates on the first day. “Right. It’s just a scratch. I’ve gotten worse from Quidditch.”

That earned him a few whistles of approval. “So you play Quidditch?” “What do you play?”

“Seeker.”

Finnegan gave an easygoing grin. “I hear there’s no seeker for the Gryffindor team this year. Wood is going out of his mind. If you’re any good, you should give it a go.”

Harry begrudgingly thanked his father for the months of grueling practice. “I mean, I’ll try out. I haven’t got a broom though. I had to leave it at home.”

“I play too!” added Ron quickly. “I play with my brothers at home! I can play Catcher or Keeper.”

“That’s right,” piped in a stylish looking young man. “He probably learned everything from his brother Bill. He was captain before Wood, I hear.”

Ron made a face, and before Harry could ask why, the train whistle began to blow. Everyone aboard started to scatter.

“We’re here! Quick, grab your things! The prefects are coming and if it’s Perfect Prefect Percy we’re all in for it!”

Hermione blanched, and Lavender rolled her eyes. “C’mon, guys. I doubt our luck is _that_ terrible.

 

 

 Their luck, was indeed, that terrible.

“All right, line up by height, weight, age and birthstone. No dilly-dallying, we’ve got a lot to go through and not a lot of time to get it done right. Boys to the left, girls to the right. Make sure you’ve got all your luggage; briefing begins at 6:21 and we’re already 17 seconds over schedule. Right then, is this everyone from compartments P to T? Come along then; this way!”

Perfect Prefect Percy looked only to be a few years older than Harry and his classmates, around 15 or so. He had short, red frizzy hair and a snooty look to him that Harry noticed most teenagers given an ounce of responsibility carried.

“What’s his problem?” He whispered to Ron while Percy was lecturing a girl near tears about the proper length of knee socks.

“Dunno. He’s my older brother. Fred and George reckon Mum weaned him too early.” Ron replied, frowning. “Whatever that means.”

“Fred and George? You mean your older brothers, the ones you told me prank you?”

“Those are the ones. They’re in the class above us. Watch out for them. If they give you candy, only pretend to eat it or say no. It’s probably a trick.”

“Ron?” At the sound of Percy’s voice, Ron tried shrinking into the line, causing quiet laughter from the other children. “Ron Weasley, that better not be you I hear back there! This line is P to T, you hear me? _P to T!_ ” Percy sighed. “Oh, bugger it all.”

On cue, everyone gasped and in chorus began chanting, “ _Oooooooooo-_ ”

“You hear that, Fred? We’ve got a despoiler in our midst.”

“Mind the children, scoundrel!” Harry turned to face the unfamiliar voices, and saw a pair of the same face staring at Percy with mock aghast. One of them had his hands clasped to Finnegan’s ears, who had joined in on the laughter. “What sort of monster are you, cursing and shouting at lost children?!”

The eyebrow on Percy’s head twitched. “They’re not lost, idiots; I’m guiding them to the Great Hall.”

“Isn’t that a job for the prefects?”

“I _am_ a prefect, you Neanderthals!”

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy? You should've said something, we had no idea."

Now the eye started twitching. “Both of you, just get out of the line; we’re behind schedule and I have no time for your nonsense!”

“Oh, you hear that Fred? He’s got no time for nonsense.”

“Oh, how unfortunate, that’s _all_ we have time for. Better hurry, George. We’re behind schedule as it is! Toodaloo, you pompous rascal! Let us know which clears up first, the acne or your schedule!”

Everyone roared with laughter as they left, and it took Percy a solid two minutes to get everyone in order again.

 

The doors opened, and as they entered you could hear a crumb drop.

Harry’s father didn’t do it justice. The building looked even bigger than he could have ever imagined; so big Harry bet that even a dragon or two could fly comfortably inside. There were great, big stone pillars that lined up the hall, and the floor was so polished Harry could see his reflection in the stone. Their new shoes made fun clicking noises as they walked along with Percy, and rich tapestries decorated the railing of the stairs ahead. The biggest were 4 in number, and each banner depicted a different animal. There was a red and gold one with a lion, and Harry recognized it instantly from the attic, on his father’s old robes. It was the Gryffindor insignia, and if all went well; Harry’s future house.

They stopped walking when they arrived to a room to the West, with great big oak doors. Percy stood in front, and was about to start speaking, when a tall, strapping older boy showed up with another group.

“Percy. Should have known you’d be here before me.” The older boy smiled, big and wide. “They should set watches by you, y’know.”

Percy had a strange unfamiliar smile on his face. For some strange and off-putting reason, it somehow reminded Harry of his mother. He quickly tried to shake off the feeling.

“Wood.” said Percy, and that was all he said. He did keep smiling though.

“You ever gonna call me Oliver, Percy?”

“I suppose it depends on whether you ever arrive on time.”

It sounded quite rude to Harry, but Wood smiled even bigger. Teenagers were awful strange, he thought.

Harry nudged Ron, who was staring at Percy in confusion. “Is that the Quidditch captain? The same Wood?”

“Yeah,” whispered back Ron, “But I didn’t know he knew my brother. Percy’s not on the Quidditch team at all. They’re awful familiar.”

He shrugged. “They’re both prefects. Maybe they share a room or something.”

Ron nodded. “That must be it.”

Their conversation was halted when they were led inside the room, and their eyes widened. There seemed to be more than triple the size of students of their group, and yet there was room to spare inside. There was a seat for exactly every one, and there, in the top row above the students, was a long desk filled with older wizards. Professors, Harry guessed. Some looked old, some looked young, some were small and some were tall. While some looked enthusiastic and kind, others looked bored and even surly. One professor looked very familiar, but Harry for the life of him couldn’t place who it was. In the middle of all of them, sat the oldest, wrinkliest, happiest old man Harry had ever seen. His eyes glistened even brighter than Harry’s owl’s did.

“Dumbledore,” whispered Ron in his ear, and Harry gulped. He had a card somewhere with that man’s face on it. It didn’t do him justice. He began to speak.

“Please, take your seats.” And everyone did.

“I would like,” started Dumbledore, and the room fell into a quiet hush, “I would like to begin by telling you all that this is bound to be a fantastic year where your classes are thrilling and eventful, your new friends loyal and true, and exciting adventure await every one of you as you first enter the bold, dangerous world of magic and intrigue.”

“I would like to say it,” continued Dumbledore, “but that would most likely be a lie.”

A female professor coughed almost violently, and Harry wasn’t sure if it was okay to laugh, but a smile escaped him nevertheless.

“Most likely, you will pass almost every class except one, no matter how hard you try. You will rip robes and tear your parchment and break your nibs two hours before your essays are due. There will be friends you make, and rivalries you’ll begin; and heaven knows which will last until the end of the school year. Some of you will spend the night weeping for the home you left behind, some of you will spend the night weeping over the toilets from all the food-”

The same professor that coughed earlier coughed again. Dumbledore jolted slightly, and began again.

“Yes. Well. For some of you, academic achievement will be your goal. For others, the Hogwarts Quidditch cup.” From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Wood and some other older students fidget in their seats. “No doubt some of you will pass. Some of you will fail. But all of you-” His eyes sharpened like jagged flint-

“All of you will _die._ ”

There was a room wide gasp of shock, and some students looked close to tears. Ron had a strange look of bewilderment and horror. Harry thought it might have looked a lot like his own.

The eyes began twinkling again. “Just kidding. Come now, just a joke, just a joke. Old men must get their kicks somehow.”

From the looks of the vaguely familiar looking professor, he was more than willing to give a few kicks to the Headmaster himself.

“Alright then. Let the sorting! Commence!”

Very suddenly, the room began spinning. Not the chairs, not the students, not even Harry’s vision, but _the room itself_ began to shift and whir into a blurry tango, rearranging and sorting itself madly for seemingly no reason or pattern at all. Without thinking, he reached for Ron’s sleeve, and the two grasped at each other as they clung to the only lifeline they knew. Eventually, the room, after shuffling a few more seats back in forth stubbornly, settled so that the students were separated into two groups, with 4 massive empty tables surrounding the girls and the boys. Suddenly, even though the room had stopped spinning, Harry began to feel queasy.

“Ron? Which house are you aiming for?” He hoped it was Gryffindor. He would hang out with Ron regardless, but if they were both in Gryffindor it would be a lot easier to mesh in with Ron’s crowd of friends.

“Gryffindor, of course.” Ron froze. “You are too, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Of course, my mum and my dad were both in Gryffindor. It’s the best house, they said.”

“Me too. Well, everyone in my family’s in Gryffindor. Even Percy, and we all thought he’d be Ravenclaw for sure. Mum even knitted him a Ravenclaw jumper.” Ron scowled. “Oh great. I forgot about the jumpers.”

“And the other boys? Know where they want to go?”

Ron shrugged. “Probably Gryffindor too. It’s the best house, for sure.”

Harry agreed. “How do they sort out who goes in who anyway?”

His question was answered by the arrival of a very ugly, very beat up haphazardly stitched witch’s hat. Harry had once seen an ornery stray cat in Diagon Alley, and tried to feed him some leftover apple slices. It had been missing one eye and patches of fur were missing all over its body. Looking at the hat, Harry guessed that where the remaining clumps of fur had been stitched.

The hat opened its eyes, and began to speak.

After a miserable speech, one by one, each student walked up and placed the godless abomination on their head. Most were sorted after only a few seconds, but some lasted a few minutes. The longest stretch of time belonged to a girl who Harry swore had more hair on her head than skin on her body, and he reckoned it only took 10 minutes was because it took that long just to get to her brain. As each child approached, Harry grew more and more anxious.

Finnegan. “Gryffindor!”

Braid girl, Lavender. “Gryffindor!”

A timid girl with thick glasses. “Ravenclaw!”

The well-dressed boy from the compartment earlier. (“Dean,” whispered Ron.) “Gryffindor!”

A chubby, friendly looking girl with freckles and a nice smile. “Hufflepuff!”

The girl who had earlier fixed his glasses, Hermione. The hat seemed to be whispering quietly to her. “Gryffindor!” It finally shouted, and for some reason the girl looked vaguely disappointed.

A blonde, sharp looking boy with an unusual name was called next. His hair was slicked back with pomade and he looked very polished. He had an arrogance to his posture, and looked very rich and very aware he was. Still, something about him appealed to Harry. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

The blonde boy sat down primly, crossing one leg over the other. Before the hat even reached the boy’s immaculate hair, it shouted, “Slytherin!”

The boy smirked, and walked back to his seat. There were some whispers across the room. Harry asked Ron if he knew why.

Ron scowled. “That’s Draco Malfoy. His whole family pureblood, and they lord it over anyone who’s not. Even if you are, expect a bad time if you’re not from money; you’re still mud on their boots if you are.” He nodded his head toward two big students with an empty chair in the middle. “Crabbe and Goyle are his minions. They ran amok on the train, and gave you that shiner on your forehead. He’s trouble; mark my words.”

Harry saw where the blonde boy had sat down, and made a mental note not to cross him.

“Potter, Harry!”

He straightened in his seat. Some of the boys on the train turned in their chairs and clapped. Some gave him an uplifting smile and hollered his name. Ron patted his shoulder and wished him luck. It made him feel popular, so he rose with a smile.

When he sat, the hat was placed on his head, and suddenly Harry could hear a voice in his mind speak.

“ _Well, my boy; where would you like? Where do you belong? Heart is big, but not wholesome enough for Hufflepuff, intelligent but not as hardworking as Ravenclaw, witty, clever, with a cutting tongue, but are you cunning enough? Ah, so brave and loyal for a boy your age. That’s rare. What’ll it be, lad? Slytherin or Gryffindor_?”

With all his might, with all his heart, Harry closed his eyes and only thought of one thing.

The hat was silent. “ _Very well, lad. Best of luck to you. Do great things.”_ And it cried,

“Gryffindor!”

There was loud applause for two rows as all the lads clapped and hollered and cheered as they’d done for each of their own. Harry walked back to his seat and shook the hands and had his shoulder clapped by almost every boy he’d met that night. He couldn’t ever remember grinning so wide.

Soon, it was Ron’s turn. Just like him, the hat ruminated for a bit, but it soon shouted,

“Gryffindor!”

There was a cry and cheer even louder than before, and the Twins and some older boys as well as Ron’s friend hooted and hollered and clapped and cheered Ron’s name. Harry himself stood and clapped so hard his hands began to hurt. When Ron returned to his seat, they clasped shoulders and sat down. The yelling was making his head feel dizzy again, but Harry didn’t care.

This was shaping up to be the best night he’d ever had.

At least, until an hour later, when they were led to the banquet hall.

 

 

The Great Hall was even grander than Harry imagined.

Food covered every spare inch of the table, and what a table! There were goblets of gravy, platters of thick, carved, roasted turkey and chicken, beef and pork in every size and flavor, roasted, grilled, sautéed; thick juicy cuts that came apart like a hot knife to butter, succulent slices that melted in your mouth and dripped with savory garnish; corn that dissolved butter and fell apart on the first bite, and potatoes: potatoes everywhere and of all kinds, roasted with butter, mashed with dill, sliced and served with baked ham and garlic bread that tore apart like melted cheese! There was cranberry jelly and mint jelly and what seemed like pitchers and pitchers of warm apple cider that bubbled all the way down to your belly, ice cold frothy ginger ale that felt like sparklers going off on your tongue, cold refreshing glasses of milk that seemed to soothe and refresh your palate with just a drop. Bowls and bowls of soups too; from creamy clam chowder to thin minestrone to brothy, meaty beef stew that was so thick you couldn’t stick a spoon in without picking up a potato or a succulent slice of beef. There were breadsticks and bread rolls and croquettes and croissants and all of them crisp but airy and steamy on the inside, so when you tore one in half, it was like the steam from the fire had finally escaped from the bun. There were carrots so steamed they fell apart on your fork and brussels sprouts so soft they gave in at first bite. Plates and plates of desserts soon came, each more splendid and elaborate than the last. Cakes, of every flavor and size: chocolate cake, strawberry cake, cakes with icing, cakes with frosting, tiny cakes with wrappers, cakes with fondant, cakes with cream in the middle, cakes with iced cream with toffee that crunched crunched _crunched_ in your mouth; everywhere you looked, cakes, cakes, cakes! What a feast!

It was too much for some. Halfway through dinner, Dean looked sadly at Finnegan, who, upon his 3rd serving of beef wellington, just sat and stared hopelessly at the remainder of his plate.

“You guys,” said Dean, “You guys, I think Seamus is dying.”

“Well, passh his plate ohverh here,” Ron said with a mouthful of roasted chicken, who was currently on his 5th portion and still going strong, “He doeshn’t need it where he’sh going.”

The girls, predictably, made faces.

“You’re all disgusting,” they cried, pretending to retch when Ron guzzled down the rest of his apple cider and gave a healthy belch. “Ew, sick! You boys act like you’ve never even _seen_ food!”

Harry, who’s appetite was unfortunately whetted by the pain in his head, disagreed. He’d seen food before. He’d yet to see a banquet like this, though. The closest had been his godfather’s wedding two summers ago, and even that had not been as elaborate as this. What he could eat made his mouth water. But because he was not fully distracted by the meal, he could feel a pair of eyes watching him from across the room. He looked up.

Crabbe and Goyle were shoveling food from the plate to their mouths, not even bothering to use the table. They were covered in food stains and crumbs, but the blonde boy in the middle, Draco Malfoy, looked as immaculate as ever. His food was very carefully cut up and divided into pieces, but his eyes weren’t on the plate. His eyes were, in fact, staring directly at Harry.

For some strange reason, the world stood still. Harry could hear the taunts and laughter from his friends feasting, could smell the aroma of his food emanating off his plate, but everything seemed to be slowed down and dull. He was only, in that moment, intensely aware of a pair of gray, almost silver eyes staring back. It suddenly, without warning, occurred to Harry that they were, objectively, the most otherworldly eyes he’d ever seen.

He was brought back to Earth by Ron clumsily waving a drumstick in his face; and just like that, the spell was broken.

“Oi, what happened to you? Not hungry.”

Harry stared at his plate, still reeling from what he alone had witnessed. “Yeah. My head kind of hurts still.”

“Oh. Sorry, mate.” Ron made an apologetic face, and then smiled sheepishly as he pointed the drumstick at Harry’s plate. “You gonna eat that?”

An hour later, dinner was finally over. Every boy struggled to re-belt their pants, and girls tried valiantly to suck in their stomachs and brush cake crumbs from their collars. Harry pretended he didn’t notice Ron sneaking some food in his pocket, and even very politely offered to hide some coffee cake in his.

The prefects seemed to be missing, and in the brief period of freedom they were allowed, everyone began talking to each other. Soon, the quiet whispers became louder, and conversation rang in the halls.

“I’ve got a secret to tell you.” Ron whispered in his hair. “I’ll tell you later; when everyone’s asleep.”

“If it involves the mashed potatoes I saw you shove down your pants, you can keep that all to yourself, thanks.”

Ron shoved him playfully. “Well then you can starve, four eyes. See if I feed you after dark!”

An unfamiliar voice rang in. “I’m surprised you’d ever manage to feed anyone, considering the hole your family’s dug themselves into.”

All at once, it got quiet. A circle slowly formed, and Harry saw who it was that had just spoke. It was Draco Malfoy, surrounded by a small entourage. He had a cocky smirk to his face, and even while standing next to Ron Harry could practically feel his fists shake. Finnegan and the other boys slowly gathered around his back and sneered at Malfoy’s posse.

Finnegan snorted. “Malfoy. What’s the matter? All that money, and Daddy couldn’t buy you any class?”

This got a small chortle from behind them.

Malfoy grinned in a menacing manner. “You’re one to talk, Finnegan. At least my father doesn’t spend it all his money on booze-”

It took two boys to hold Finnegan back, and to Malfoy’s credit he barely flinched. “Watch your mouth, Malfoy, or your daddy will be spending it all on your new _teeth_.”

Goyle stepped forward. Malfoy pushed him back. “Don’t bother. His threats are as empty as Weasley’s wallet.”

At that, Ron stepped forward, and Harry felt the need to intervene.

“Stop, Ron. It’s not worth fighting; not the first night.”

Malfoy sniffed. “Your friend’s right, Weasley. How strange for you to have a made a friend with some actual common sense. Although, speaking of common-”

“And you,” Harry glared at Malfoy, who looked shocked by the interruption. “Mind your manners. If you’re dressed like a gentleman, then act like it!”

Something in those words must have rang true to Malfoy, for his eyes widened and his countenance seemed to have changed completely. For a moment, without the bravado, he was only a boy their age. Unfortunately, it did not seem to last. His composure regained, he stared at Potter curiously.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t give it.”

That got him a smirk. “You’re very witty, aren’t you? You don’t seem the type to be hanging around Weasley and his crew.”

As usual, the words flew out of Harry’s mouth seemingly without effort or thought. “And you don’t seem the type to be picking fist-fights with strangers,” and smiling mischievously, added; “So I guess Crabbe managing to swallow a chicken whole without choking isn’t the only surprise we were in for tonight.”

That got laughs from both sides. The tension seemed to ease slightly.

“Crabbe,” asked someone from behind Malfoy, who continued to stare at Harry, “How did you manage to eat a whole chicken like that?”

Harry rubbed his hands together before Crabbe could respond, and blew a great breath into his hands and with a poof, made a gesture that they’d exploded open. “Magic, I wager.”

Everyone laughed now, and even Ron cracked up. His fist had relaxed. Crabbe smiled, half good-natured, half embarrassed. Malfoy was the only one not laughing, and reached his hand out to Harry to shake.

"You're better off not hanging around his sort.” said Malfoy, nodding towards Ron. All at once the good humor faded. “I can help you make the right kind of friends."

Harry paused, taking in the situation. Around him were a dozen unfamiliar faces, all staring in curiosity at the event unfolding before them. On his left, was his new friend Ron, tense but no longer enraged. Finnegan glared at Malfoy as well, but didn’t make a move to intervene. Whatever happened next was clearly Harry’s decision.

He took a closer look at Malfoy. He didn’t look like what Harry thought a bully would. His cousin Dudley was a bully, and so were all his friends who looked at Harry with hate in their eyes and anger in their words. Harry knew very well what hate looked like. But when Harry looked in Malfoy’s eyes, he didn’t see that hate. He didn’t see that anger, either. He, instead, saw something hauntingly familiar. Something he saw sometimes when he looked in the mirror on one of his worst days.

He saw someone who needed a friend.

He wondered why. Malfoy had money. He had confidence to spare. He wasn’t ugly to look at either, in fact; he was quite-

And then his father’s words from earlier rang in his head.

He took Malfoy’s hand. There was a loud gasp from behind him. There was an even louder gasp when Harry bent over and very delicately kissed the back of Draco Malfoy’s hand.

"You know," Harry tried his best to smile the way his father did at his mother, "Something as lovely as you has no business looking so upset."

If Harry thought his mum's face could turn pink, he was unprepared for the flush that crept up Malfoy's neck to his cheek.

There was silence. No one even dared breathe. From behind him, Harry could hear someone collapse to the floor, as though they fainted, but he didn’t take his eyes off Malfoy. But Malfoy-

"Lovely?" whispered Malfoy, so only Harry could hear him, either unable or unwilling to look anyone in the eye. He stared at the hand that Harry still held as if it didn’t belong to him. When he finally looked up and into Harry’s eyes, his eyes grew wider and almost as if he was an entirely different person, snatched his hand away quickly and held it to his flushed face. He seemed almost in shock, and then; quite suddenly, seemingly without his permission or even his knowledge, the edge of his pink lips started to curve very slightly upwards at the end.

Curiously, from out of nowhere, the thought came to Harry that Malfoy looked even lovelier when he smiled. Some part of him felt frightened by the notion, like he’d done something wrong.

But before he could give it any thought, Percy returned with a vengeance.

“All right, all right; I’ve got the password now. Line up all of you; this time by gender, shoe size and greatest fear. Longbottom, stand next to your female partner; her lips are stitched together, she’s not going to bite! Finnegan, you make those rat teeth behind my back again and I’ll assign you toilet duty for the next 2 weeks; see if I don’t! And I better not see anyone here that’s not Gryffindor; all you other houses, move to your places at once! Come on, come on; we have to stick to the schedule, let’s get a move on!”

Everyone who was in other houses waved goodbye to their friend while the girls and even some boys hugged their new friend’s goodbye. The crowd dispersed in robes of black and green and yellow and blue and bronze, but even amid all that chaos, as he headed upstairs to the Gryffindor tower, Harry still couldn’t take his eyes off the rosy pink of Malfoy’s face.

 

 

They reached a painting and Percy painstakingly gave them all the password, sternly reminding everyone that the password changed every week and that they were _not, **under any circumstances**_ , to give it to _anyone_ from another house.

“Not a relative, a close friend, a best friend, a girlfriend (some boys pretended to vomit at this) not your pastor, your priest and if you can help it, not my twin brothers. If they forget it and ask one of you, pretend you don’t know.” Percy paused. “Better yet, play dead. They’ll lose interest faster that way.”

The inside of the tower, like the rest of the castle, was equally impressive. Stone tiles packed neatly together to form the outside layer, and the floor was a hard but smooth marble. The furniture was built from a pale white wood, and smoothed and varnished so it gleamed in the candlelight from the chandelier above. There was a warm rug by a large fireplace, and several tables with books and magical chess pieces left haphazardly. There was a large staircase leading up, which split in two different directions.

“Upstairs to the left is the fourth to eighth year girl’s dormitories. To the right are fourth to eighth men’s. You lot are considered first year in this school, and that means that under _no circumstances_ are you allowed in the rooms upstairs. If any upper classmen catch you, I can’t be responsible for what they’ll claim as penance.” Percy shook his finger. “Do you all understand me?”

Everyone nodded, and they moved on. Percy walked them to a hallway that seemed to wrap around the shared space of the recreation room, and showed the boys to their bedrooms, while an older female student showed the girls.

It wasn’t what Harry had imagined. Each Year had their own bedroom, but it was open spaced and all the beds faced each other in a circle. There was plenty of room, but besides a flimsy curtain there wasn’t much privacy. It didn’t bother Harry too much. He could just change in the W.C, if it got to that.

After what seemed like forever, Percy finally left and before Harry even put his bags down he was bombarded by the other boys.

“You sure shut Malfoy up, Harry. How’d you know what to say?”

“Have you ever met him before?”

“Why’d you kiss his hand? Was it greasy like his hair?”

“Could you teach me to talk smart like that too?”

“Yeah, again; _why’d you kiss his greasy ole hand_ -”

All at once, the heat from being surrounded by the others and the volume of their voices caused Harry’s headache to come back once again. On a particularly bad flare-up, he hissed and grabbed his forehead.

“All right, you clowns; enough! Can’t you see the poor man’s in pain, save your questions for later; move it!” When no one moved fast enough, Finnegan flung his jumper off and whipped it at the behinds of the crowd. “I said beat it, you vultures!”

Ron brushed Harry’s fringe away and hissed. “You’re bleeding through the gauze, mate. It looks nasty.”

At this point, Finnegan looked himself and whistled. “He’s right. That looks right nasty. You should head to the school nurse, Potter.”

Harry gave him a look he mostly reserved for his father. “Great idea, Finnegan. And what should I say when I get there, that I was attacked by a flying briefcase that had a row with my unblemished forehead?” He sighed. “We’ll all get in trouble. Give it time, it’ll heal on its own.”

Finnegan made an impatient sound. “Didn’t that Hermione bird say she’s heal this? What gives?”

“She fixed his glasses; not his wound, Seamus.”

Seamus shook his head. “Birds. What good are they, eh Harry?” He gave a teasing grin. “Oh, but maybe birds ain’t your type after all, ey you sly devil-”

“Oi,” barked Ron, “Back off, Seamus. He stopped us from getting in trouble, didn’t he? It worked, didn’t it? So lay off ‘im!”

Seamus put his hands up in surrender. “Awright, awright. Don’t get your knickers in a twist; I was only having a laugh. Harry knows I’m kidding, don’t you Harry?”

“I know you’re not worth much but for a laugh, Finnegan.”

Seamus roared with laughter yet again. “The mouth on this one! I tell you, Ron, you sure know how to pick ‘em. Stick with us, Harry; we’ll be besties yet!”

Soon, night fell. After all the excitement and good food and friendly atmosphere Harry felt as though he was wading in tar just walking to his bed. Ron claimed to one next to him, and he motioned for Harry to come over. They sat next to each other on the floor, Harry in striped linen button up pajamas and Ron in some thin shirt and ratty sweatpants. They both had socks with holes in them. This, Harry took as testament to their future comradery.

“Remember when I told you I had a secret?” Ron whispered, nibbling on cold mashed potatoes and a semi-stale biscuit. “Well, when I sat down at the sorting hat, it wanted me to pick between two houses. Know which one? You’ll never guess.”

Ron was about the nicest boy Harry had ever met. “Was it Hufflepuff?”

Ron shook his head, excited. “Nope. It was Ravenclaw.” His chest puffed up. He looked a bit like an owl. Harry was reminded of his own owl that he had sent to the owlery in the tower next door. He hoped she wasn’t cold. Tired, he forced himself to listen attentively to Ron.

“It said I was “brilliant.” A “strategic innovator”.” Ron smiled between bites. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds mega wicked, dunnit?”

Harry smiled back. “Yeah. I could see that.”

“Did it ask you? About other houses?”

Harry debated whether to tell Ron, but decided it was better to be open and honest. “Yeah. It wanted to put me in Slytherin.”

Ron coughed out a bit of biscuit. Harry helpfully slapped his back. When he finished coughing, he asked with a gravelly voice. “Slytherin? You?” Ron shook his head. “No way. You’re too decent a sort to be put in that snake’s den.”

“Malfoy’s in Slytherin.” Harry pointed out genially.

Ron scowled. “Case in point. I can’t believe you kissed that git’s hand. Shut him up, at least. Maybe he’ll leave off about my family for once.” He finished the rest of his biscuit and took a savage bite of the coffee cake Harry had absconded in his pocket. “Stupid poncy git.”

“He seemed a bit, I don’t know. Lonely to me.”

“With that attitude, I’m not surprised.” Ron spared him a glance. “He really doesn’t bother you?”

Harry shrugged. “I only just met him. He’s kind of rude; I’ll give you that.” Harry kept thinking about that soft smile. “He can’t be all bad though. Right?”

“Right,” Ron groaned as he reached for his bed. “I’m sure he’s an angel in disguise, that one.”

 

_Mum,_

_Things went great my first day! On the train, I made a bunch of new friends (Seamus, Dean, and Ron, Mr. Weasley’s youngest son). I got a bit hurt on accident, but they took good care of me and a girl even fixed my glasses. (She was_ really _bossy though.) The castle looks even bigger than dad said, and the floors were so shiny you could see yourself in them! They sat us down and we got to hear the wizard Dumbledore (That’s out headmaster, by the way) give us a welcome speech. Don’t tell anybody I said this, but I think the old man has gone daft, and everyone’s too polite to say so. He was pretty funny though. I got sorted into Gryffindor too! So did a bunch of my new friends. Everyone clapped like mad when they heard. I hope I’m as popular as dad was when he was my age._

_I didn’t recognize any of the teachers you mentioned, although there was this one professor who looks like someone who’s picture I saw once, up in the attic. Do you know anyone really tall, with kind of greasy black hair and a big ole hook nose? He didn’t seem very nice, but maybe he was just bored. You’re always telling me to see the best in people. I’m trying really hard to._

_I don’t want to scare you, but I broke up a fight today between my new friends and this boy named Draco Malfoy. He was saying mean things about Ron’s family, but I did what Dad said to do and I cracked a few jokes and everyone stopped fighting. I might have taken it a bit too far though. I didn’t hurt anyone’s feelings, but I still feel guilty for some reason. Like there’s a big pit in my stomach, like I did something wrong even though I didn’t. ~~Dad said that lovely people should be kissed~~_

_~~I didn’t mean to be bad~~ _

_~~Is it alright to kiss bo~~_

_I wish you were here. Some things are hard to write about._

_The food was amazing, and even though the beds are all facing each other it’s kind of nice in a way. That way, if I start to have nightmares again I’ll wake up surrounded by other people. So please don’t worry! I’m not alone anymore!_

_Anyway, it’s time to go to bed and I’m awful tired. Hedwig (my new friend Dean gave me that name, says it’s from a band) doesn’t look tired at all, so I’m sending her to bring you this letter. This will have to be my good morning to you until summer! No crying!_

_I love you, mum._

_Your son,_

_Harry Potter_


	3. Harry's First Day of Classes

Harry woke up to an unfamiliar sensation. When he opened his eyes, a stranger was staring down at him.

He didn’t jolt. The stranger however, did.

“Sorry!” cried the strange boy. Harry glanced over at his appearance, trying to see if he could recognize him. The boy had straight brown hair with a bit of fringe and a slight pudge to his face and belly. He was already dressed in robes, and was holding gauze in his hands.

“Seamus woke up and saw that I was awake already so he told me to fix the cut on your head while they all took a shower but you were still sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you up but I guess I did anyway but please don’t be mad or the boys will get angry with me-”

Harry was kind of impressed with himself that he caught any of that. “Whoa, slow down; it’s alright. You just- surprised me, is all. So, Seamus asked you to fix my head, did he?” Harry smiled, hoping it would relax the strange nervous kid. “Did he also introduce me, or should I get started?”

“No, I know w-who you are.” He said. “You’re t-the Boy who Kissed Malfoy.”

Harry stared. “I didn’t kiss Malfoy.”

“But you did! E-everyone is saying so.” The strange boy played with the gauze in his hand. “Not that I listen to gossip. I d-don’t! But everyone knows. You’re the t-talk of the dorm; for shutting M-Malfoy up.”

Uh huh. “Sure. Can you fix my head, please?”

“Oh!” The boy fumbled with the cloth as if he’d forgotten he’d had it in his hand. “Yes, of course.”

Surprising for his nervous constitution, he was very precise and careful with cleaning the wound. When he’d wiped the last of the dried blood away and started cleaning it with alcohol, he whistled at the damage done.

“Sorry to say this, Harry; but that’s gonna leave a nasty scar.” He brushed the edges with a cotton swab, ignoring Harry’s hisses of pain. “I can clean it up but you’re gonna have to air it out so it can scab up.”

Harry sighed. “That’s fine. No one will see it under my fringe anyway.”

The other boy hummed in agreement. “I was surprised when Seamus asked me to help. I didn’t even think he knew my name.”

That brought up another thing. “What is your name, anyway?”

“It’s Neville. Neville Longbottom.” As if expecting laughter, he braced himself. Harry only smiled.

“Could be worse. Could be Sorebottom. You ask me; you got lucky there, friend.”

That won him a smile. “I suppose. Luck’s what you make of it. That’s what my granny says, anyway. She said my dad used to hate it too. Mum almost kept her name, until Dad-”

Harry wanted to ask what his dad did to convince her, but they were interrupted by the boys storming back into the dorm, sopping wet and shouting all at once.

Finnegan dried himself frantically with a towel and smiled at Harry without a care in the world. “There he is, Loverboy himself! Rise and shine, Romeo; breakfast is in an hour and Ron’s got a date with plate of sausages!”

Ron, who was still trying to pull a jumper over his soaking wet skin, nodded frantically. “Come on, Harry; take your shower and get dressed! I’ll wait for you but I’m not a saint; I’m _starved_!”

Harry stared at Ron in bewilderment. “You just ate a few hours ago, you daft cow!”

Ron threw on his jumper and stared at Harry like he’d grown another head. “That was ages ago; I’m a growing boy; I need to eat! It runs in my family!”

Dean, who was styling his hair in the mirror, smirked. “Keep eating like that and it’ll be the only thing that runs in your family.”

Everyone laughed, but Seamus, who howled.

“Yeah, yeah” Ron muttered. “Everyone’s a comedian.”

Harry began sorting out robes. “Do we have to wear our robes every day, or just for special occasions?”

“Today we do. I think as long as you wear the jumper with the house badge sewn in, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Think we need our books?”

“Take them just in case. We all have Potions first thing, and an upperclassman told me Snape’s a real slave driver. A nasty one, him.”

“Which one’s Snape?”

“The one that looks like he’s got a toucan lodged up his nose!”

Another laugh. Harry smiled as he got dressed.

“Oi, no shower Harry?”

“Ho ho, I’ve no time, remember?” Harry mock admonished Ron as he pulled his red jumper over his chest. “I’ve got a best friend who’s near dying of starvation; breakfast awaits!”

Ron stopped, as if he was in shock and then smiled brightly. “Harry, I knew I liked you!”

 

 

Breakfast was just as grand as dinner had been.

They had everything anyone could ever ask for. Giant links of sausage, scrambled eggs, poached eggs with hollandaise, eggs over easy, eggs sunny side up, every omelet you could possibly think of in every variation, pancakes, flapjacks, waffles, hash browns, grits, oatmeal, sliced ham, oranges, bananas, and every kind and color jam Harry could even name. If it was something you could eat for breakfast, it was there.

Dean buttered his flapjacks thoughtfully. “You know, when I lived in Japan, they ate something called miso soup and fish with rice for breakfast.”

Harry turned to Dean in shock. “You lived in Japan?”

Ron stared at Dean incredulously, while a bit of hash brown fell out his mouth. “Fish for _breakfast_?”

Dean nodded. “I’ve had it. I didn’t care for it much. Still, it’s important to try new things.”

Dean struck Harry as a very cool, very chic person. He hoped Dean would come to feel the same about him.

“Well, good for the Japanese; I’m sticking with good ole flapjacks and scrambled eggs!” He slurped up the remainder of his orange juice, and licked the pulp from his lips. “Ah!”

Hermione, who’s hair looked bigger than Harry remembered, gave Ron a look most people reserved for hair they found clogging the shower. “Charming.”

Seamus swung an arm around Ron’s neck and gave him a great big smile. “Ain’t he just?”

From across the room, Harry made eye contact with Malfoy again. This time, Malfoy was very badly trying to pretend he wasn’t sneaking glances, and looked unusually interested in his breakfast. Harry really didn’t see what was so interesting. From what he could see, it was only half a grapefruit and some tea.

“-I’m only saying it wouldn’t kill you to have some manners at the table; you needn’t act like a pig at the _slop_ -”

“And _I’m_ only saying that you’re not the boss of everybody so stop acting like anyone gives a fig what you have to say, and stop _bossing us around_ -”

His hair was combed back again. He looked polished with his hair swept back. Harry wondered how long it would be. Was it as soft as it looked-

“ _Pig!_ ”

“ _Know-it-all!_ ”

“Enough!” cried a voice from down the table, and it was enough to snap Harry out of his reverie. To his shock, it was Wood who looked furious.

“Miss Granger, while I understand your concern; if there is a matter concerning another student, I ask that you consult a prefect and _not_ take manners into your own hands!”

Ron grumbled under his breath. “That’ll be the day.”

“-And Mr. Weasley, while I expect this kind of behavior from your two knucklehead twin brothers I didn’t think I’d expect you talking that way to another student, _especially_ a lady!” Ron bowed his head in shame. It didn’t improve Wood’s mood.

 “Apologize to each other, this instant!”

“Sorry.” They murmured to each other, and at that Wood seemed to come to his senses, and even he seemed taken aback by his sudden manner.

“All right then. Erm. Carry on.”

Percy, who had been sitting across from Wood, shot him a grateful smile from behind his paper. For a moment, Harry felt bad for Percy. He imagined it must be hard, to have to be so strict all the time. Every now and then, it must be a great relief to be able to depend on someone else to do the hard parts.

Breakfast carried on without anymore interruptions. The first class Harry had he shared with Ron and Hermione Granger. Sullenly, they made their way down the hall and to the staircase leading to the basement.

“Potter.”

Harry turned. It was Malfoy that called out to him.

People stopped to see what was going on, but no one stayed. No one, it seemed, wanted to risk Snape’s ire on the very first day of class. Harry went to approach him, but Ron grabbed his sleeve.

“Forget it,” Ron said, frowning. “I doubt he wants to do anything but insult something stupid like your size of the button on your loafers.”

“Don’t be daft,” Harry said with a smile, “My loafers are perfect. Go on. I’ll be alright.”

Ron sighed, but let him go. With a wary glare in Malfoy’s direction, his head disappeared down the stairs.

Harry approached Malfoy who stood at the door to the stairwell, but Malfoy seemed to be having trouble making eye contact with him again. Harry was about to ask why he called him, but at the last second Malfoy seemed to muster up his courage and put on his bravado once more.

“Right. So I need to discuss something with you. Regarding yesterday.” He paused, and continued when Harry said nothing. “About our _liaison_.” He whispered, as if anyone was listening.

Harry didn’t know what that meant, but he could imagine it was _not_ related to anything that had happened last night. “You mean when I kissed your hand.”

Malfoy’s eyes grew wide and looked side to side, as if teams of paparazzi would spring up beside them at any moment. “Quiet!” he hissed. “Don’t- don’t speak of it, so- so _brazenly!_ ”

This was shaping up to be an interesting morning. “Or is it when I called you lovely?”

If Malfoy’s cheeks got any pinker he’d resemble a finch. “Must you be so crass?”

Harry kept his hands in his pockets. “I was aiming for “lovable rogue” but if you’ve got a preference-”

“Now see here,” and _here_ was apparently the point where Malfoy put his hand on his hip and pointed a finger at Harry’s nose, “Last night, you besmirched my honor-”

“Oh, I besmirched it; did I-”

“- _Besmirched it_ , that means _ruined_ and I demand that you make reparations. Post haste. That means _right away_.” He added, when his previous sentence got no reaction.

This boy was mental. Pretty as magnolias in spring, but 100%, Grade A _mental_. Harry loved it.

“Oh really. And what, pray tell, in the interest of this mad conversation, would these- You said repairnations?”

“Reper _ations_. That means to make amends.”

“Right. These _reperations_ \- what, exactly would they be?”

Malfoy took a deep breath. “Carry my books to class.”

Harry stared. “You’re joking.”

He glared. “I am _not_. You made steps to courting me-” (Here, Harry coughed almost violently) “A-And now to preserve my family’s good name; well now, you have to make amends, you see-”

“Let’s say,” said Harry, who was currently very proud that he had neither laughed in jest or stared on in shock, “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that I agree to this insanity. For how long would I have to carry your books?”

Draco thought for a moment, and then answered solemnly. “Until we are properly wed.”

The door to the stairwell opened much easier than Harry anticipated. “Well, good luck with your honor; shame about the besmirchment, have a _pleasant day_ -”

“What- you’re leaving? Just like that? Hey!” Malfoy, honest to god, stomped his foot. “Don’t walk away from me! How dare you-”

At that Harry _had_ to turn. “How dare I? Are you _listening_ to yourself? Are you _mental_? Till our _wedding_? _Seriously?_ ” He threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “We’re only eleven!”

Malfoy sighed with the air of someone quickly losing patience, and for the first time since they had met Harry wanted nothing more than to throttle him. “Alright. A compromise.”

“A compromise. Really.”

“Until our engagement. But only after-”

Harry leaned against the stair banister and pressed his hand against the wound on his head. He felt a headache coming on. It got so bad he very nearly missed the footsteps leading towards him.

“Is that why you had your head bandaged yesterday? I thought you’d just caught Weasley’s stupid and you tried to wrap what was left of your sanity in vain. It looks like it hurts a lot. No, don’t fuss; come here. See, it’s all this fringe; it’ll never heal properly unless it gets some air. Better?”

Malfoy stood closer to him than he’d ever stood before. From this close he could smell something that smelled vaguely fruity, maybe like strawberries. Interestingly enough, Malfoy’s cheeks were beginning to resemble them. They both stepped away from each other rather quickly. Harry was almost embarrassed how much he’d been affected.

Neither one spoke for some time. Finally, Malfoy broke the silence.

“Potter’s a pureblood name. That means your bloodline is strong.”

Harry looked up, still in a daze from the smell of strawberries that lingered in the stairwell. “Is it?”

“It’s not as well-known as mine. But it’s a step above Weasley, to be sure.” As if sensing Harry’s offense to that, he continued even faster. “But Papa- _Father_ knows a lot of people. Even in the Ministry. He’s very important, my father.”

“Is he?”

“And my mother,” he continued, seemingly not noticing Harry’s baffled expression, “Mummy knows even more. I bet your mum and mine have met before. She could introduce your mother to her social circle I bet. I bet your mother would be very popular there.”

Where was he going with this? “Do you?”

Malfoy seemed to be getting more anxious for some reason. “And- And we have a lot of important business abroad- that means far away from here- so really this is an amazing opportunity you’ve got here, to become my suitor-”

“Suitor?”

This time, Malfoy went from pink to red. “It means friend.”

Finally, a word Harry understood. “Okay, I can do that.”

Malfoy just stared. He didn’t move an inch, not even when Harry gestured towards his books.

“Oi,” he said, tilting his head to try and catch Malfoy’s attention. “You still want me to carry your books?”

Seemingly still in shock, Malfoy held out his books in a daze. Harry took a glimpse. History of Magic. That was well on the other side of the castle. He sighed. Nothing for it then.

“Well, come on. I’ll be late to Potions anyway. I’ll walk you to class.”

It took exactly eight steps away before Harry heard footsteps following, and when Harry turned to see if Malfoy was still behind him, he was struck (yet again!) by how truly lovely Draco looked when he shyly smiled back. It was completely worth being late to Potions, thought Harry as they made their way together.

 

 

Snape, unfortunately, did not see it that way.

“What are you doing?”

Harry froze at the door. “C-Coming to class?”

Snape stared. Then stared some more. “Close the door.”

Harry did.

This got him an even more searing glare. “Step outside. And close the door behind you.”

Harry, confused, looked to his classmates for an answer. No one would look at him.

“ _Now_ , Potter!”

He stepped outside, and closed the door behind him. He could hear the muffled sounds of class continuing from behind the wooden door, but he was baffled as to what he should do. He didn’t dare open the door again, so he just stood awkwardly, hoping he wasn’t in serious trouble.

“Oi, I know you.” Came a voice from down the hall. “You’re one of Percy’s kids, right?”

Harry looked up at the familiar face of Wood. He really was tall, for his age. He was almost as big as a grown-up.

“Hullo, Oliver.”

Oliver Wood smiled. “Hullo, Harry. Walk with me, would you? I need a hand.”

Harry hesitated, gesturing towards the door.

“Oh, him? Nah, don’t worry about Snape. You only missed the first class, it’s no big deal. You don’t even get a proper reaming ‘til the third week, at least. C’mon.” Oliver winked and tapped his nose. “Official prefect business, what do you say?”

For a while, they walked together and discussed all sorts of things. ‘Official Prefect Business’ apparently meant cleaning up after the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but Harry didn’t mind. The conversation made the time pass by quickly. Harry found out that Percy and Oliver shared a room together as Prefects, and that Snape refused to allow anyone more than ten minutes late into class, no matter _what_. Oliver, in turn, found out that Harry was a massive fan of Puddlemere United, and that he was interested in trying out for the team.

“We’ve got spots open for seeker, your friend was right about that.” said Wood as they stacked the broomsticks by speed and length. “Unfortunately, we’re not allowed to recruit first years on the team.”

Harry’s face fell. “Yeah, I know. My dad told me”

Wood at least looked apologetic. “Maybe next year, eh Harry? You can meet the team at practices, if you like. It’d show some great Gryffindor spirit!”

Wood talked like an old-fashioned man from talk radio. Harry thought it was charming, in an accommodating sort of way. He was shockingly kind of a big bulky nerd, but Harry liked when people surprised him.

They finished up cleaning up just in time for Harry’s next class, when Harry remembered what he had promised Draco. On a whim, he asked Wood a question.

“Hey, Oliver?”

“Yeah, Harry?”

“What does a ‘suitor’ mean?”

Oliver dropped the brooms he’d been carrying in his arms, which was odd because they sure didn’t look that heavy to Harry. Wood frantically began picking them up, one by one.

“How old are you again, Harry?” He asked.

“I’m 11. I’ll be twelve next July.”

“Right. Of course.” Oliver still wouldn’t look at him. The back of his ears were turning red. Harry was starting to wonder if maybe some kind of virus was going around the school or something.

“It means friend,” Oliver answered after a few minutes, very deliberately avoiding eye contact. “It means very, very, very good friend.”

 

 

Harry made it to History of Magic just as the class was letting out. Draco was one of the first to leave. He seemed shocked to see Harry there.

“Were you waiting there the whole time? Didn’t you go to Potions?”

“Yeah, about that,” Harry gently took his books away, and they began walking. He tried to ignore the whispers as they made their way together. “Turns out I can’t walk you to your first class anymore, unless we leave extra early. I was ten minutes late to Potions, and Professor Snape wouldn’t let me in.”

Draco frowned, which made his nose wrinkle up. Harry was honestly starting to find it tiresome that he could be so won over by something as stupid as a wrinkled nose. He did however, grudgingly admit to himself that it was, indeed, very adorable. “That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“That he wouldn’t let you in.” They passed Finnegan and the rest of the boys in the hall, and Harry very purposefully ignored the water Finnegan sprayed from his nose as they walked by. “Blaise woke up twenty minutes late this morning, and he sent me a note from Potions saying he got in fine.”

Harry stopped walking in the middle of the hall. “Twenty minutes?”

Draco turned to look at him. “Yes, that’s right. He had to stay after class and copy down notes, but-”

Harry didn’t hear the rest. He was filled with an unfamiliar feeling he’d never felt before. He walked Draco the rest of the way to class, handed him his books as in a brusque yet gentle manner, and made his way to his next class, which was Transfigurations. His bad mood lasted all the way up to finding a seat by Ron.

Ron, sensing the mood and probably because he was such a good person, thought it was because of him, and set right to apologizing. “Sorry I didn’t speak up when you got to Potions. Only remember when Percy explained House Points? Well, Snape kept taking them from Gryffindor for every little thing-”

“Ron-”

“-even if we got a question wrong, and he would call on anyone whether their hands were up or not, it was completely unfair, and he even took some points off when Granger kept raising her hand-”

“Ron, it’s-”

“-and then when you walked in, he just knew who you were! Nobody told him, I swear, he just _knew_ what your last name was and I was too scared to back you up cause he’s _scary_ mate like you got no idea-

“Ron, for the last-”

“-And when you left he took 30 whole points away so now Gryffindor is at, negative _twelve_ or something which is _beyond_ unfair-“

“ ** _Ron._** ”

Ron gulped. “Yeah?”

“It’s fine. It’s whatever.” Harry sighed, deeply. “I’m not going to let it bother me. I’ll just show up on time from now on, yeah? He can’t hate me if I do nothing wrong.”

Ron nodded fiercely. “Absolutely. Spot on. Standard.” He paused. “Yeah, but what if he can though?”

Harry stared at the empty row in front of them with malice. He remembered now where he’d seen Snape’s face before. “Then I go to Plan B.”

“I’m gonna tell my mum about it.”

 

 

For the rest of the day, Harry rushed to Draco’s classroom, and as they agreed, Harry walked him and carried his books to his next class. Sometimes Draco would wait by the door, books gripped to his chest. Other times they passed each other in the hall. Once, they bumped shoulders. Harry couldn’t think of something funny to say at the time. Halfway into his last class, his left arm would tingle, just a bit.

At dinner, Seamus stared very hard at his plate, and then at Harry. He looked like he had something to say but lacked the words. Harry kept eating his dinner. He supposed it was unfortunate not everyone had Draco’s vocabulary.

There was a particularly delicious looking leg of lamb on his plate, but feeling eyes on him again, he used a knife and fork. It was an odd feeling, to both dread and enjoy being watched. They both pretended they weren’t looking at each other. Harry had a feeling they weren’t fooling anybody.

Out of nowhere, Seamus slammed his goblet down. The students around him stopped eating, except of course, for Ron. Ron kept staring even as he poured the gravy into his mouth. Everyone very deliberately used the other bowl.

“Dean, say something!”

Dean looked just as shocked as everyone else. “About what?”

Seamus, because nothing he did could _ever_ be subtle, nodded firmly in Harry’s direction.

“Look,” Harry said before anyone could start in on him, “We’re just. Friends. That’s it! You people act like you’ve never seen two people from different houses get along for Pete’s sake!”

“I’m not saying you can’t be friends with him, even though I honestly think you’ve got a screw loose! But walking him to class? Carrying his books?” Seamus leaned in and tried to speak in what he probably thought was a quiet manner. He sounded like a balloon rapidly losing air. “I din’t even do that for Dean when he broke his leg last fall! I made him crawl up me bedroom stairs!”

“It’s true,” said Dean wistfully stirring his macaroni and cheese. “He even turned off the light in the hall when I got halfway so the light wouldn’t bother him while he slept.”

“See?! That no good brat’s probably just taking advantage of you, and I can’t sit back and watch a good fellow be taken advantage of; no sir!”

“But I don’t mind it; it’s not a big-”

“Wrong!” cried Seamus, splattering poor Neville with a heaping dose of buttered mashed potatoes. “It’s a _huge_ deal! We already lost 30 points this morning cause you were walking Sir High-And-Mighty Priss-Pants to his Royal Classroom-”

Harry was starting to get annoyed. “I won’t be late again.”

“But how do you _know-_ ”

A fist slammed down the table. “Leave it!”

Seamus turned in shock. So did Ron, whose open mouth leaked corn back onto his plate.

So did Harry, who honestly didn’t think Neville had it in him.

Neville apparently didn’t think he had it in him either, as his hand started shaking. But his voice was clear.

“You said you weren’t going to tell him who he could be friends with. But here you are, telling him horrible things; that he’s being taken advantage of, that he cost us a bunch of points because of it, that his word is no good. Well, what about yours?

Seamus recovered quickly and glared. “Oi, Neville; who do you think you’re talking to? Watch your-“

“You said you weren’t going to tell him who to be friends with. You said!” Now Neville’s arm was shaking, but he didn’t back down. Even as his whole arm shook, he refused to look away.

“Longbottom, mind your own business!”

“Seamus, mate; calm down, yeah? Don’t get so excited over nuffin, awright?”

Seamus ignored Dean, and focused his ire on Neville. “I’m trying to help him; he’s not even your friend Neville-”

_That_ bothered Harry. “Oi-”

“Are you a man or not?”

They stared at Neville in shock. Seamus looked about to boil over. “ _Wha_ t did you say to me, you fat tub of nuffin-”

“You gave your word! Are you a man or aren’t you?”

At that, Seamus lost it. He reached over the table and Neville flinched-

But his fist never made it. Because Percy’s arm caught him.

At first, Seamus stared in shock. They all did. But Seamus was too angry to care. “Let go! I said let go, you bucktoothed _freak_ -”

Ron stood. Harry stood with him.

Percy stared them both down. They sat, begrudgingly. There was silence in the Great Hall.

He still didn’t let go of Seamus’ arm. “Let go!” cried Seamus, nearly purple with rage now. Harry had never seen someone his age so angry. It was almost frightening. “Let go of me! I’ll show him! I’ll show him who’s a man-”

At that, Percy let go.

“Alright.” said Percy. “Your hand’s free. No one’s holding you back. Your friend is right there. Strike him, if you so please. Go on. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To hit him? So do it.”

Seamus was taking great big, deep breaths now. He wasn’t looking at Neville. He wasn’t looking at anybody. He just stared at the floor, shoulders shaking with the breaths he took.

“If you’re going to hit him, you might as well do it now. But that’s not what a man does, is it? A man doesn’t strike his friend down, does he?”

Seamus didn’t answer.

“Well?” asked Percy, staring hard at him. “Are you a man or aren’t you?”

Seamus was looking down, but Harry couldn’t see his face. Without a word, he shoved Percy by and ran out the Great Hall. Dean stared down at his full plate, sighed and got up and walked after him.

There was still not a sound in the Great Hall.

Neville looked like a ghost. He had tears in his eyes, and he looked about to cry. He almost did, when-

Dumbledore stood. Harry and a few others gasped, as they had somehow forgotten he was there.

He broke the silence.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling yet solemn. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I, therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.”

Whatever tears Neville had managed to hold back, he couldn’t anymore. He sobbed, a great heaving sob, and Lavender gave him her handkerchief. Everyone was grateful. There wasn’t much else they knew to do.

While the girls consoled Neville, Harry tried to meet Draco’s eyes, but Malfoy refused to look up for the rest of the meal.

 

 

It was unusually quiet, in the boy’s dorm.

Last night, it had been joyous. Everyone was full of food and excitement and camaraderie. Tonight, everyone sort of shuffled along, solemn as a psalm. Harry blamed himself, but couldn’t regret making his new friend, and so he felt miserable. Neville looked even worse than Harry felt.

When Dean and Seamus came back in, the tension grew even thicker. Not even Harry knew what to say.

Seamus stared at the ground, and didn’t move until Dean gave him a good shove.

“Sorry, Harry.” He murmured to the ground. “Sorry, Neville.”

Neville looked about to sob again. “Seamus-”

“Right, that’s it. I’ve had it.” Ron stood suddenly, and with all the strength he had, threw a pillow right in poor Neville’s face. Neville’s eyes were as wide as everyone’s mouths.

“I’m sorry; did that hurt? Did I ruin your little Hufflepuff jammie cry session?” He threw another pillow at Seamus, who dodged it artfully, and it smacked Dean, who was caught so off-guard that he lost his balance and fell the other way. “Shall we cry some more and steal some crumpets from the kitchen?”

Now Harry understood, and he whacked Ron in the back of the head with his heaviest pillow. “Oh? Did you manage to fit anything else in that walking pantry you call sweatpants?”

The boys caught on quick. Soon, pillows started flying everywhere.

“I’ve heard enough out of you four-eyes,” and Ron reached for Dean’s pillow to throw at Harry, but Dean had quickly recovered by then and walloped Ron so hard he fell on his bottom, hard.

“Oi, you lout; that hurt!”

“Too bad it wasn’t your head,” cried Seamus who was busy defending himself from a barrage of feathery cannons. “Would have done you the least damage!”

Harry would have agreed, but another pillow knocked his glasses off, and the dorm descended into madness. For some reason, no one came to chastise them for the noise.

They all lay on the floor, minutes later, fighting to catch their breath from exertion and laughter.

“I have an awful temper.” Seamus admitted, apropos of nothing. “Harry, do what you like. I don’t care anymore. You’re my friend either way. You too, Neville. Oi! Neville! You hear? You’re my friend too!”

But Neville was fast asleep. He must have heard Seamus, Harry thought. Why else would he be smiling?

 

Harry woke up for the second time to an unfamiliar sensation.

A folded note, very urgently, kept tapping against his head. Still groggy, he reached for his glasses and as he read the note, became more and more alert.

It read:

_Potter,_

_This is from Malfoy. ~~You don’t have to carry my~~_

_~~Suitor doesn’t mean frie~~ _

_You know what? Forget it. This might surprise you, but I am, in fact, a very selfish person. I am writing you this note to inform you that yes, you do have to carry all my books and walk me to my classes every day and no, I have not forgiven you for making advances upon my person-that means kissing my hand!_

_I honestly don’t give two figs in a chestnut tree what your ~~dumb stupid ignorant~~ friends tell you because I’m a Malfoy and what I say goes and **I SAY** you have to do what I asked you to do ~~so tell your~~ ~~rotten friends to go suck an egg~~_

_So tell yourconfrere- that means associates- that they’ll just have to live with it._

_I have Potions first thing tomorrow morning. Don’t be late._

_~~Love,~~ _

**_WITH MUTUAL RESPECT_ ** _,_

_DRACO MALFOY_

Harry fell asleep almost immediately. He had to get up early tomorrow, after all.

 

_Dear Uncle Remus,_

_I know it’s been a while since I wrote you a letter and even longer since I’ve seen you! I forgot to thank you for my birthday present; I took it with me to school. ~~Dad said maybe you were too embarrassed to give it in person, but~~ It’s my favorite book, and even though sometimes the words are hard to read and understand, the poems are still really cool and make me think a lot about life. The words I don’t know, I can just ask somebody right?_

_~~Speaking of asking somebody-~~ _

_~~I was wondering how you and Uncle Sirius were doing~~ _

_~~I met a boy and~~ _

_I know you’re super busy and all; but could you come down and visit me at school sometime? I have a lot to ask you, and it would be nice to hear your voice again._

_I know it sounds strange, but please don’t tell Dad about you visiting. He’d just get really jealous, and you know how he gets when he gets riled up! Thanks for understanding._

_With Love,_

_Harry Potter_


End file.
